


Every Strand

by FreshBrains



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Community: 100_women, Community: comment_fic, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Established Relationship, F/F, Hair Washing, POV Sif, Post-Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve such beautiful hair,” Frigga says, the soft bristles of the brush hushing through Sif’s long, dark hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Strand

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ comment_fic prompt [Any, any, hair brushing](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/720450.html?thread=95103298#t95103298) and the LJ 100_women #023: [Hair](http://fresh-brainss.livejournal.com/6660.html).

Sif shivers when Frigga’s hand comes to tip her head further back, her lady’s fingers cool against the jut of her chin. “There’s my good girl,” Frigga murmurs, and Sif feels another shudder rack through her strong frame.

This is what the Queen of Asgard reduces her to. She’s naked from tip to toe, sitting in the royal washroom with the queen pampering her as a princess would be. Sif has been high with arousal and readiness for her lover since she arrived back from battle, her cunt swollen and her nipples tight. But before they couple, Frigga likes to make her clean, likes to remove the battle from her flesh and ready her for another, sweeter kind of exertion.

“You’ve such beautiful hair,” Frigga says, the soft bristles of the brush hushing through Sif’s long, dark hair. Every stroke is followed by the sift of Frigga’s fingers through the silky strands. When she catches a tangle, she works through it slowly, making Sif hum with pleasure. “It marks you well in battle.”

“How so?” Sif is still a bit unsure of her hair—she used to match Frigga in gold-hued beauty before her treacherous son Loki decided to play a trick and take away Sif’s blonde hair forever. She used to be known as the Asgardian warrior with the curtain of long, sun-gold hair, a shimmering mark of power ascending across the battlefield. Now, the color remains dull in the sun, making her no more significant than the warriors at her flanks.

Frigga strokes both hands through Sif’s hair, her nails scratching gently against Sif’s scalp. “You can keep secrets with this hair, my dearest. It hides blood and the dirt of war. Look.” She motions towards the basin filled with water that she used to wash Sif’s hair. The water is tinted orange. “It alludes to your strength.”

Sif can no longer resist—she turns in her chair and catches her queen’s hand in her own, stilling her movements. The brush clatters to the stone floor and remains forgotten by both women. “May I show you more of my strength?” Her hair falls over one shoulder, a silky dark sheath that coyly hides one breast.

Frigga swallows hard, a small smile on her lips. “Please,” she says, and that’s all Sif needs.

She stands, catching her queen around the waist, tugging her close. “Then let us draw a bath, and I will return the favor,” she says, lips grazing Frigga’s ear. “I shall scrub you clean, then we may dirty each other once more.”

Frigga’s hands tighten in Sif’s hair, tugging and tangling, undoing her careful handiwork from earlier. But as they get lost in one another’s bodies, neither woman care bring themselves to care.


End file.
